


my sweet indecision

by pixiepuff (colourmecrunchy)



Category: Merlin (TV) RPF
Genre: Friends to Lovers, Humor, Jealousy, M/M, little bit of crack because i can't post just intense shit right
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-19
Updated: 2012-11-19
Packaged: 2017-11-19 02:04:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/567818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/colourmecrunchy/pseuds/pixiepuff
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This takes place immediately after Merlin 01x05 airs. Bradley is <em>fuming</em>.</p><p><em>And it's. It's just. It's not</em> fair, <em>okay?</em></p><p><em>Merlin was meant to be with Arthur, it's as clear as day and</em> everybody <em>knows it, everybody, he's checked numerous internet sites online and if it's on the internet it's</em> definitely <em>true, right, but then why do everybody and their fucking mum end up in Merlin's bed on the show apart from Arthur?</em></p><p> </p><p>  <em>It's eating Bradley alive. He wants to have a go, god damn it.</em></p>
            </blockquote>





	my sweet indecision

Bradley is pissed off.

He knows he is, and he knows where it's coming from, but he's no closer to resolving the issue despite fulfilling all the factors to actually be able to do so. This issue  _cannot_  be resolved, see. He feels helpless in his stupidity and rage, and if others call him on his bullshit after tonight he'll plead temporal insanity because that's what it  _is_.

 

He's temporary insane.

 

Or maybe it's a terminal thing. Who knows. Is it fatal? He has this heart condition and it's all stupid Colin's fault and he  _hates_  him, he hates him because Colin is a teasing, confusing bastard, and Bradley detests his hair and ears and eyes and  _lips_ ,  _Jesus fuck_ those lips, and he hates how Colin prances around and wiggles his ass right in his  _face_  and Bradley just doesn't  _know_  anymore.

This could all be easily resolved, but  _no_ , because Colin is also a really private fucker, and he just doesn't share - and, okay, he shares apples and umbrellas and ideas of how to pull a prank on their favourite camera bloke, but when it comes to  _important_ things, things like what is his favourite colour, and why did he decide to be a vegetarian, or if he likes it up the  _ass_ , no, those things remain a fucking mystery.

And Bradley is at the end of his rope. He is. His coffin is slowly getting hammered shut, and tonight Colin himself supplied the last nail for his eternal rest. Bradley doesn't think he'll ever invite others to come and watch an episode at his place again, and, quite frankly, maybe they wouldn't show up even if he did. He's been fuming for the past hour and it wasn't a surprise they all jumped up and made stupid, transparent excuses why they have to leave already as soon as the show was over.

 

And it's. It's just. It's not  _fair_ , okay?

Merlin was meant to be with Arthur, it's as clear as day and everybody knows it,  _everybody_ , he's checked numerous internet sites online and if it's on the internet it's  _definitely_ true, right, but then why do everybody and their fucking mum end up in Merlin's bed on the show apart from Arthur?

It's eating Bradley alive. He wants to have a go, god damn it.

 

And if he's completely honest with himself, he wants to have a fucking go in  _Colin_ 's bed too, and, oh, would you look at that fitting adjective?

 

It's also no fucking relief that the only one still left in his apartment is Colin, who is in the bathroom, apparently in dire need of a piss - seriously, he had one beer,  _one_ , his bladder must be the size of a Barbie van's tank - and Bradley sighs for a moment because maybe he'll go in there once Colin is gone, and just sit on the bloody toilet and think of Colin pissing, because that's probably as close as he'll ever get to the guy's _cock_. Bradley knows how fucked up it sounds, alright. He does. But he can't do anything about it and he dares you to do  _better_ in his situation.

He's never got so many mixed signals in his  _life_ , and he just can't deal anymore. That little shit is making him question everything, and over-analyzing every single thought and action and he's started reading  _Zen_ books, for fuck's sake, just because he feels he's no longer in touch with his inner spirit, or what ever that fuckery is.

 

He starts shoving the empty beer cans in a bag, and look at  _that_ , Colin's actually still has some in it, Jesus  _Christ_ he didn't even have the decency to drink that  _one_ beer while smirking mysteriously as the  _screen Colin_ spent the night in his room with stupid bloody _LanceI'mstupidandprettylot_. When he's done and he turns around, he sees Colin is leaning by the kitchen counter, silently watching him.

And oh lord  _does_ he want to tell him off. Because  _first_ , you don't just  _stand_ there, you offer help. Second, you don't just stand there  _quietly_ looking like  _that_ , and third, he needs to re-do this whole thing because Colin isn't _standing_ , he's  _leaning_ , that bastard is leaning back against the counter with his skinny fucking hips jutting out, and one of his legs is lifted up on a nearby chair and what the  _fuck_ did he do in the bathroom, wet his  _hair_ or something, because it's all spiky and hot and Bradley just wants to throw him over the shoulder and fuck his brains out in the bedroom.

Or maybe throwing him over his shoulder is a bit rash.

Throwing him over the  _balcony_ is a milder alternative, yes. He'd at least survive the fall.

 

He puts down the bag and barks. "What?"

Colin, apparently not thrown by his tone because he either has nerves of steel or is just incapable of detecting human emotions that don't involve happiness or  _confusing people out of their fucking minds_ , just smirks wider. "Did you like the episode?"

And. My  _god_.

"Mhh."

"What was that?"

"Yeh."

"I think Lancelot is a great addition to the lot."

"Had fun filming, did you?"

"Bradley."

"And why was he even sleeping in your room? Aren't there like, taverns? And stuff? And why aren't you sleeping in  _my_ room, actually? Don't servants- "

" _Bradley_."

" _What_?"

"Don't you mean why  _Merlin_ isn't sleeping in  _Arthur's_  room?"

" _No_!"

 

Colin straightens up, then, and rolls his shoulders with eyebrows raised to his hairline. Bradley knows he's probably given himself away, but  _fuck that_ , seriously, because he's had enough of watching Colin mere few feet away from him every god damn single day, winking at him or smiling at him or  _breathing_  at him with his stupid sweet breath that made Bradley forget about his lines and - no.  _Enough_.

 

Colin exhales then, and looks relieved, which -  _what_?

 

"Fucking  _finally_ , you dumbass."

 

Bradley doesn't have time to even blink the fog of shock or confusion or what _ever_  away, because in the next moment Colin crashes into him, body and mouth and everything in between. You might want to argue there's nothing else left to crash, but then you clearly don't know Colin like Bradley does, because Colin works on several  _levels_ , like some transcendental mutant, and if Bradley feels  _all_ of him, then all of him it is.

He has to bite Colin in the lip to actually make him stop and get some bloody air in his lungs, when he rasps out, "What do you mean  _finally_?"

 

Colin is gulping for air too, but he's doing it right against Bradley's lips and for a moment he thinks he's going to faint because this is  _brilliant_ , he can taste Colin's sweet breath and he feel  _something_ that he hopes it is what he thinks it is because he  _wants_ it, when Colin moans in his mouth.

"Could you be a chatty bastard  _after_?"

"After  _what_?"

 

Colin kisses him again, which really isn't kissing, right, but more like  _devouring_ his mouth which Bradley has nothing against whatsoever, and  _then_ ,  _then_ Colin grips his cock over his jeans and  _squeezes_.

"This, Bradley. After  _this_."

"Oh  _fuck_."

"Mhm."

"Colin- "

 

Colin sighs and moves away just enough for Bradley not talking into his mouth completely. Which isn't moving away much at  _all_ , but Bradley isn't one to nit-pick.

"Yes?"

"You said  _finally_ \- "

"Yes I did."

The confirmation is apparently all Colin thought Bradley needed, because he resumed moving his hand, almost clutching him in his vice-like grip, and Bradley can barely breathe.

"So you,  _ah_ , were waiting for- something?"

Colin grins and licks over Bradley's mouth, and Bradley thinks he might just  _die_ , okay, because Colin's taste and his tongue and oh good lord he's unbuttoning his jeans-

 

"Bradley?"

"Uhh?"

"Shut up."

 

Bradley nods, yes,  _yes_ , because suddenly this feels like an  _excellent_ idea. Talking is overrated anyway, yeah?

 

"Let me tell you a little story."

Okay talking is only overrated if  _he_ 's doing it, Colin can speak anytime, yes he can, and can he do it against his lips, right, like _this_ , thank you -

"I noticed for a while now you were a bit possessive of me."

Colin's hand is done with the jeans. He stops for a moment and slides his fingers over Bradley's underwear, all along his cock, and continues.

"And I needed to be sure, Bradley. I just had to be  _sure_."

 

Bradley nods, again, and shudders at the slight press of Colin's fingers. He mouths a quick prayer of thanks to the wall behind him and promises it a new painting, or paint, or  _something_ , but thank you for holding me up because Colin is  _killing_ me-

Colin pushes his hand inside his underwear and starts to stroke him firmly.

"Colin,  _fuck_ \- "

"I knew you were jealous. I knew. But it could be because you didn't want to share me as your new  _playmate_ , your best friend- I had to be certain it wasn't that, that you were jealous because you  _wanted_ me, and I fucking  _waited_ -"

 

Colin's hand feels amazing, and Bradley can't help but push his hips up at every upstroke. He won't last, he won't, and he's usually pretty endurable, thank you  _very_ much, and he'll prove it some other day, but right now he can't, he's too pent-up, so much of everything bottled-up inside and he knows he's close as Colin tightens his grip and licks at his mouth again.

 

"Bradley?"

" _Mm_?"

"Merlin is too poor for a night shirt."

"Wha-"

"He sleeps in the nude."

 

 _FUCK_. Bradley wails, mental images too fucking much to  _bear_ , Merlin, or Colin or whatever, in that tiny bed with that scratchy blanket and chilly air,  _naked_ , and he sags against the wall and spills into Colin's hand.

He hasn't even come down yet, his chest still heaving, and tiny white specks of light still dancing in his vision, when Colin, that little bastard, decides that having a breather is for pussies, or something, and pulls him after himself towards the master bedroom.

"Come on. I'll show you what happens when Merlin spends the night in Arthur's room."


End file.
